Constant Vigilance
by Bethany Reese
Summary: Is it just another one of Moody's false alarms?


  
  
Alastor Moody awoke with a start to a loud, piercing whistle echoing in his ears. Within a moment he had registered that his Sneakoscope was the source of the wailing. He jumped out of bed, or rather, hastily threw his good leg over the side letting his wooden one follow, and walked as briskly as his stiff legs would allow him to his bureau. Moody picked up the large, crystal spinning top and hastily opened a drawer. He shoved the Sneakoscope under a pile of robes and snaped the drawer shut behind it.   
  
Moody fell still and pricked his ears for a sound. But the Sneakoscope continued to wail, only partially muffled by the clothes lying above it, and no other sound was audible. Moody hurriedly flung the drawer open again, grabbing the Sneakoscope. He flipped it expertly over in his hands and turned a small, almost invisible, glass dial and the wailing slowly ceased. But, barely a second later, the piercing cry began to grow again as if some invisible hand were turning the dial in the opposite direction. In a final attempt to silence the object, Moody held the Sneakoscope high over his head and dropped it to the floor, sending a large crack down its side, stopping the whistling abruptly.   
  
Again, Moody fell still and his muscles tensed as he strained to hear any unusual sound. But he heard nothing. He furrowed his brow, which made his already gnarled and crooked features even more unnatural looking. His one small, beetle-like eye stood fixed on the window in front of him, straining to see through the darkness. Meanwhile, his other eye, a large, blue one, had swiveled back into his head and was scanning the hallway outside his closed bedroom door behind him.   
  
Moody stood silent for several minutes; his brain seemed to be on fast forward, remembering every tick of the trade he had learned during his days as a Auror. Sayings like 'Never underestimate your opponent' and 'Anything could be a trap' kept flashing across his mind. And then, there was an incredibly faint click, so faint in fact, that had Moody not been standing completely still, he never would have heard it. But he heard it nonetheless.  
  
He jerked his head around and fixed both eyes upon his door, listening hard, should the noise repeat itself. He slowly turned his body around, every fiber in him alive with a sort of nervous excitement. Very slowly, he began creeping toward the doorway and reached a contorted hand to the knob. He rotated the handle and pulled the door open noiselessly. With his normal eye, Moody peered down the dark and deserted hall, while his blue eye danced in its socket, quickly glancing in every direction for any sign of movement in the rooms beyond.   
  
Then, quite suddenly, there was the groan of wood shifting under pressure and Moody jerked his head toward the sound. He reached inside the deep pocket of his robes and swiftly drew out his wand. Clutching it firmly and pointing it downward, he breathed, "Lumos!" and a thin ray of light shot from the wand's end and hit the floor.   
  
Quivering with nervous anticipation, he started to walk fixedly down the corridor, doing his best to silence the clunk, clunk, clunk of his wooden leg. As he approached the first door to his left, he stopped and swept the room behind it with his magical eye. Only after he was sure it was empty did he continue down the passageway. He looked beyond the walls of each room he passed, but he saw nothing unnatural behind any of them.   
  
As he neared the end of the hallway, he was perplexed that he couldn't generate a clear view of the interior of the closet on the right. There seemed to be a kind of thin fog pervading the space. Cautiously approaching the closet door, he suddenly became aware of a humanoid silhouette in the drawing room across the way. His every sense insisted the figure harbored malevolent intentions. Extinguishing his wand, he stood directly in front of the door which held in it a decorative stained-glass panel. Now his normal eye confirmed the presence of a short, abnormally skinny man. Moody readied his wand and carefully pulled the knob toward him to avoid a tell-tale click. He slowly twisted it, holding his breath. Briefly he held the door at the ready, clutching his wand even more firmly, then, with an explosive burst of energy, threw the door open and bellowed, "STUPIFY!" A jet of burning red light burst from the tip of his wand and sped harmlessly through empty air, striking the far wall with a steaming hiss.  
  
Impossibly, the room was quite empty.  
  
Too late, Moody sensed something immediately behind him and heard a relaxed voice intone, "Entwinericus." Moody felt his limbs relentlessly bound by thin, snake-like cords. He struggled against them but fell forward, overbalanced, with a breath jolting thud. A gentle push of a foot rolled him onto his back. The ghost-like face that loomed above him was none other than...  
  
"Bartemius Crouch! It can't be. You... you put up the vision shield in the closet, you were hidden there. But it couldn't have been you in the other room."  
  
Crouch bent his face closer to Moody, and with a small, sneering smile, answered in one word, "Stupify." And Moody's world went black.  
  
As Crouch began to drag Moody's limp body toward a large trunk, a small, furry creature emerged from the drawing room and scurried down the length of the hall. Dodging quickly through the bedroom, his long, worm-like tail brushed against the damaged Sneakoscope, which gave a futile whoop of warning that quickly died away.  
  



End file.
